Chapter 201: A Ghost From The Past
Some days ago...
A group of people had arrived at a small village far away from Eryndor, with Minister Griswold among them. Information had reached them about a woman who might possess a very valuable asset, and that was exactly why they had come.
After asking around the village, they had been directed to the woman’s home, and so they made their way there without delay.
The door was knocked on twice before a young woman opened it from the inside. Her gaze immediately fell upon the nobleman standing before her, impeccably dressed despite the journey, and then shifted to the other unfamiliar man accompanying him.
"Hello, Rebecca," Minister Griswold greeted first.
Rebecca frowned slightly. "I’m sorry, do I know you?" she asked, her eyes narrowing with both curiosity and caution as she studied him.
A faint smile appeared on Minister Griswold’s lips.
"You’ll find out soon enough," he replied, and before she could say anything else, he placed a hand against the door and pushed it open, welcoming himself into the small house along with Minister Warren and the others who had accompanied him.
Rebecca stepped back instinctively, watching them enter her home as unease slowly settled in her chest.
She had never seen any of these men before, yet they behaved as though they already knew exactly who she was.
A short while later, she moved cautiously around the house preparing tea. Once it was ready, she poured the steaming liquid into cups and arranged them carefully on a tray before carrying it over with slightly trembling hands.
Reaching the table, she set it down in front of them. "Tea?" she offered quietly.
Minister Griswold’s gaze drifted to the cup she had served him in, and the small chip along its rim immediately caught his attention, causing his eyes to narrow ever so slightly.
Likewise, Minister Warren made no move to take the tea. "Why don’t we simply get down to business?" he suggested.
Griswold nodded. "That would be better."
Rebecca swallowed as she looked between the men. The atmosphere in the room had become increasingly uncomfortable, and the longer they remained silent, the more nervous she became.
"We’re not here to harm you or anything," Minister Warren said, noticing the fear that lingered in her eyes. "As long as you cooperate with us, you’ll have nothing to fear."
"What do I need to cooperate with you for?" Rebecca asked immediately. "I... I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please, I don’t want any trouble."
Her voice came out lower than she intended, and despite her efforts to remain calm, the quiet panic inside her was becoming harder to conceal.
Griswold leaned forward slightly and clasped his hands together in front of him.
"We are not here to bring trouble. As a matter of fact, this concerns a very bright future for you..." He paused deliberately before continuing. "And your son."
Rebecca’s eyes widened instantly at the mention of her son."My son?" she repeated quietly.
"Yes," Griswold answered calmly as he settled back into his chair. "We both know your son is not an ordinary child. His veins carry the blood of our king. His rightful place is on the throne of Eryndor, and he should be the one ruling after his father."
Rebecca stared at him in complete disbelief. "B-but..." she stammered. "I thought there was already a new king?"
Minister Warren’s eyes narrowed. "A fraction of us do not believe the man currently sitting on that throne is the rightful king. We believe your son deserves that position, and if you choose to stand with us, we can make that happen."
A faint smirk tugged at Griswold’s lips. "What do you think about becoming the mother of a king?"
Rebecca didn’t know.
She truly didn’t know...
Her heart pounded heavily against her ribs as memories she had not revisited in years came rushing back all at once.
It had happened during a cold night much like any other. She had been returning from the market when she spotted a man lying outside in the freezing weather. At first she thought he might already be dead, but when she drew closer and crouched beside him, she realized he was still breathing.
"Are you alright?" she had asked softly as she reached out and took his hand.
The man’s pale blue eyes slowly opened, and there had been something in them that she could never quite explain. He had looked exhausted, worn down by something far heavier than the cold itself, and despite being a complete stranger, Rebecca found herself unable to leave him there to freeze to death.
So she brought him home.
At the time, she had lived in a small hut with her mother, and together they had cared for him until he recovered. Once he was healthy enough to walk and move about on his own, he confessed that he didn’t really have anywhere else to go.
Rebecca had been young then.
Very young.
The stranger had been handsome, charming, and unlike any man she had ever met before, and before she realized it, she had already become attached to him. Because of that, she could think of no reason not to let him stay.
Despite her mother’s reluctance in the beginning, the man quickly proved himself useful. He helped with chores, repaired things around the house, carried heavy loads whenever needed, and never complained about the work. Gradually, even her mother’s suspicions began to fade as she witnessed how helpful and respectful he was.
As the months passed, Rebecca and the stranger grew closer.
The gratitude she had once felt slowly became affection, and affection eventually became something much deeper. Before long, they had fallen into a relationship neither of them had planned for, and one night he made love to her, followed by another and then another, until loving him became as natural as breathing.
For a while, Rebecca had been happy.
She had believed those days would last forever.
Then one day, while they lay together in bed with their legs tangled beneath the blankets, she noticed something different about him. He was sitting with his back turned toward her, unusually quiet, and there was a heaviness about him that immediately drew her attention.
"What’s wrong?" she had asked, propping herself up on one elbow.
When he didn’t answer immediately, she frowned. "Did I not please you?" she asked again, her blue eyes widening with innocent concern.
A small smile had appeared on his face. "You did, Rebecca."
"Then what is it?" She sat upright completely, watching him carefully.
For a long moment he remained silent before finally speaking. "I have something I need to tell you."
Rebecca’s attention sharpened immediately. "What is it?"
The man exhaled slowly. "I’ve never really told you who I am."
Confusion crossed her face. "What do you mean?"
Then he turned and looked back at her.
The expression on his face was unlike anything she had ever seen before. "I am Alaric," he said quietly. "The Crown Prince of Eryndor."
Rebecca’s entire body froze.
For several moments she could only stare at him as though she had misheard what he had just said. Her jaw slowly fell open, and the words echoed repeatedly in her mind until reality finally struck her.
The moment it did, she scrambled out of bed and immediately dropped to her knees.
"Your Highness..." she whispered in horror.
Panic flooded her chest as she lowered her head to the ground. "Please forgive me. I had no idea who you were... I truly didn’t know."
Her voice trembled as fear consumed her. "I deserve death," she said immediately.
